


The Sound of Rain

by JadedPandaGirl



Series: Panda's Expanded Devil May Cry [10]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bad Jokes, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Canon/OC - Freeform, F/M, Oral Sex, Overwhelming Amounts of Cheese, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedPandaGirl/pseuds/JadedPandaGirl
Summary: Following a job, Dante and Tess discuss bad pick-up lines and shelter at the office from the rain.





	The Sound of Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look. I wrote some smut.

Dante took a moment to frown at the sky just as the faint but ambitiously endeavoring drizzle started. Really? It couldn’t wait a bit longer? He winced, looked up and blinked when a drop nailed him right in the eye.

“Hah, did it get in your eye?” his red-headed company asked. “Teaches you to criticize the sky, I guess.”

He rubbed his eye with a knuckle while smiling tartly down at her. “Damn weather…” he just chuckled. “Guess we’re getting wet.”

Tess groaned as they walked. “Aw jeez you just reminded me of our client. Do you know what he said to me just before we left to clear the place out?”

Dante frowned at the image of the fleshy, slack-jowled man that hired them for the extermination job at the old hospital. Dante had done business with far more unsavory people than that sanguine, puffed-up real-estate shark but the more he thought about the old man the more Dante was reminded of an elderly, obese bulldog. Maybe that’s why Tess _really_ asked him to accompany her for the job. He wouldn’t wanna meet with that guy alone, either!

He quirked his eyebrow. “No, what?”

“Well the moment you were out of the door and he was handing me the map,” Tess said, cringing, “he leaned in and said something like—“ here she imitated the old guy’s throaty drawl with a precision that threatened to send Dante into fits. “Honey, call me a fahr’figh’er, ‘cuz you’z hot and ah’ll leave ya wet.”

Dante threw his head back and barked out a sudden laugh, ignoring the drizzle that hit his face. “The old horndog!” he whooped. “No wonder he looked so miffed when you sent me into his office to pick up the payment afterwards!” 

“One of the worst pick-up line I’ve heard and I’ve heard some shitty ones,” the witch grinned. “I _do_ work in a café-bar.”

“Oh really?” Dante smirked. “Do illuminate me, Twig,” he dared her playfully.

“I heard this cute one last week from a freakin’ teenager who came in for coffee. ‘You’re like cappuccino: you’re hot, sweet and you make me nervous.’ I had to duck into the kitchens to laugh.”

Dante cackled. “Pretty good for a brat, then! He picked up on your own obsession with the black gold.”

“I bet _you_ could come up with some horrid ones,” she grinned, her green eyes flashing with mischief.

Dante stopped, swung the suitcase of money over his shoulder and scoffed. “Are you accusing me of using stale pick-up lines, Twig?” he said, feigning indignation.

“I am,” she retorted. “Go on, prove me wrong!” she added, grinning.

“Alright, alright,” he said, looking away and shaking his shoulders as if warming up. “Don’t blame me when you’re a puddle of goo at my feet, Twig.”

She cackled and they walked on, always gravitating towards any sort of cover from the drizzle.

“Pizza is my _second_ favorite thing to eat in bed,” he said, straight-faced.

Tess erupted into giggles. “Bullshit!” she tittered. “You’d sooner ignore a trio of women wanting your dick just to have some pizza!”

“Guilty as charged,” he confessed, snorting. “Okay, how’s this: You’re on my list of things to do tonight.”

“Oh man that’s an _old_ one!” Tess snickered. “I’ve heard it a dozen times.”

Undeterred, he carried on. “What’s a nice girl like you doin’ in a dirty mind like mine?”

“At least you admit you have a dirty mind!” she giggled.

“Yeah and I also know you’re anything _but_ nice, Twig,” he scoffed. “But hey, there’s a party around your ankles, why don’t you invite your pants down?”

That one made her laugh so hard she couldn’t speak properly for the last two blocks until his office and Dante blessed her sometimes bizarre sense of humor. Around the same time that they reached his front door, the rain had started coming down harder. With little to no cover in the bare back-alleys that Dante had made his home, they were forced to endure it.  

“Woof, at least it didn’t start when we were still caked in dust from the hospital,” Tess mumbled, after she’d stopped whooping.

“Heh, that was fun,” Dante yawned. “Haven’t had a building come down on me in a while,” he added, stretching luxuriously.

The briefcase swung dangerously as he flexed his arms.

“I almost wish I could see the look on the fatso’s face when he goes to inspect his property,” Tess sighed. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

“I call it community service, Twig,” Dante smirked. “Place was gonna come down anyway, at least it won’t take anyone with it.”

“Too true,” she agreed. “Too bad my car’s in the shop and Trish kidnapped your bike, we had to walk all the way.”

Dante smirked, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Tut, tut, Twig, you don’t need to beg: You can wait the rain out at my place. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I sent you home in the rain!”

She sniggered. “Thanks.”

The office was chilly when they stepped inside, out of the rain, and the lights he turned on were a bit weak-willed and anemic. The sound of rain coming down already started to permeate the space and the windows slowly became dotted with droplets. Tess exhaled and from the shaky breath he could tell she was grateful to be out of the rain but she shivered from the chill. She never did manage cold very well, being a fire witch and all that. He thunked the briefcase onto his desk.

“Least this guy didn’t get too damp,” Dante said.

Tess eyed him with some concern. “We’re dripping. We should dry out before we open it, last thing we need is soggy cash. I’ll have to wait the rain out here, too.”

She was right. Both their hair hung wet and limp; strands of Tess’ longer hair stuck to her face and shoulders. She could practically peel her damp shirt away from her skin and her skirt outlined her body more snugly than it normally would. Dante felt his shoulder twitch before he could stop it – the way shoulders seem to do when you have water creeping down your back under your clothes.

“No kidding. Mind fetching some towels, Twig? I’ve got clean ones in the back” he said, already starting shrug his coat off.

“Sure thing.”

When he looked up, Tess had already disappeared into the back rooms, presumably to fetch said towels. He suddenly had the awkward hope that the bathroom would not be a complete mess and then shook his head at himself. He removed his sword and guns, propping the former against the wall and leaving the latter on the desk, then sheepishly shook his coat. It was dripping with water and he absently hung it on the coat-rack.

A towel landed over his head suddenly.

Tess chuckled from behind him.

He turned, pulling the towel up and back to dry his hair. Tess tilted her head sideways and was drying her hair over her shoulder in another fluffy white towel. Outside, the rain grew in intensity, along with a few low booms of distant thunder.

“I really hope that fat idiot didn’t stiff us,” she grumbled. “Then I’d have to go back and actually see him just to kick his lardy ass.”

Dante grinned at the thought of the image. “I checked the case before I left, it’s full of cash. We’re good.”

“Well thank fuck for that. We’ll split it when we’re dry, before Lady shows up and snaps all of it up.”

Dante managed to look mournful. “I see how it is, Twig. You’re just as bad as her. And here I was hoping I’d just reward you with my charm.”

“Your charm’s appreciated, but it doesn’t pay the bills,” she replied with a sly grin.

He scoffed quietly and scrubbed his own hair dry. He couldn’t resist allowing his gaze to sweep over her again. The wet look suited her nicely. The long black skirt with the single slit and the intricate black patters embroidered along the hem now hugged her juicy thighs and butt just right. She was just the right size to tuck her under his chin, too. The sodden shirt now stuck quite closely to her body and Dante lost the fight to resist a smile. Her skin was all goosebumps from the cold and he had a lovely view of her pert nipples through the now clingy shirt.

“What?” she quipped, still drying her hair. “Why’re you grinning?”

Dante’s smile grew. “You’ve left your high-beams on,” he said slyly.

She blinked at him quizzically, then looked down at herself. She noticed immediately and balked, clicking her tongue – but she had a rueful smile on her face as she draped the towel over her hair.

“Oh, brilliant,” she chuckled, turning away from him, tugging at her shirt and rubbing her breasts in an effort to sort the embarrassment out. “Definitely not wearing this bra again in wet weather…” she muttered.

Dante chuckled, draping the towel on his shoulders. “I have that effect on ladies, Twig. You should know that by now!”

Tess groaned, but turned back again with a laugh. “Come on, Dante. That was pretty lame, even for you,” she teased. “One of these days you’ll say something like that to a woman with less patience than me and you’ll be in _really_ deep shit.”

Without missing a beat, Dante counted off on his fingers. “Let’s see… Lady shot me in the head – twice – Trish electrocuted and stabbed me and _you’ve_ punched me in the face, not to mention all the lady demons I’ve had to fight. I think I’ve covered everything so far. So, what have I got to worry about?”

Tess giggled and then assumed a very grim look. “Lawyers, perhaps. I doubt even you could overpower something _that_ fearsome.”

Dante started laughing. “The true representatives of Hell on earth. And I wonder why the world’s going the way it is,” he scoffed and held out his arms dramatically.

Predictably, it sent her into a giggling fit again. She never was any good at keeping it in when something amused her. He often caught her snickering unashamedly at some one-liner or other that he spouted – even at some that even he knew were kind of terrible. She hadn’t really succeeded in getting rid of her ‘high-beams’ or the goosebumps on her skin.

“Cold, Twig?” he asked her.

She wiped her eyes with the ball of her hand, breathing out from her laughing. “Well, I _have_ been trudging through the rain with you for most of the evening, and it is November.”

He pulled the towel off his shoulders and tossed it over to his chair. “Well that won’t do,” he said smoothly. “I really oughta do something about that.”

“Oh, really?” she quipped back, a smirk playing on her lips. “And what would that include?”

“If you’re that cold, you could use me as a blanket, Twig,” he said, smirking. He approached her with a light, lithe step and loomed over her. “Or I could get a little more involved than that.”

“Of course,” she scoffed lightly. “I bet that was your plan all along. Walk me through the rain, invite me in and offer me towels… just to seduce me.”

His grin widened. “Tut, tut, tut, are you going to accuse me of arranging the weather too?” he feigned insult. “Because I believe that’s more your area of expertise. But I don’t see how this development would be bad.”

“As if you would,” she tittered as he leaned in. “When did you ever see anything wrong in dirty ideas?”

“Guilty as charged,” he breathed.

He seized her lips in a bruising kiss, sliding his arms around her back and drawing her in, stooping slightly down to her level and found that she was grabbing at his shirt to keep him there. One hand reached down to her ass and gave it a generous squeeze, enjoying her firm butt and how perfectly it seemed to fit in his hands.

Even as he did so, he asked himself: _What the hell are you doing? What the hell are_ we _doing?_ They weren’t ‘together’, they weren’t ‘a couple’ or even what you’d call ‘fuck buddies’ – in fact, Dante sort of detested that term because it sounded so crude, even for his tastes. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but the two of them just… had _something_ ; that was the best way he could put it. It can’t have been a normal, healthy thing, though. They were both far too damaged for that, surely. They always evaded the matter anyway, just teased and snarked and bantered. Dante could tolerate demons calling his mother abominable things but the moment Tess called him something like ‘dipshit’, it got him in the mood to bicker with her. And likewise, she could ignore grievous insults from anyone, but the moment he jibed her about her height, shit got real, as they say.

But that wasn’t important right now, what mattered was how nicely her body fit against him and how cold she really felt. He tutted at himself mentally; what kind of jerk was he, leaving the poor woman in her cold, sodden clothes? Nope, that had to be rectified—

As soon as he was done kissing her senseless. Her mouth was warm and sweet and he groaned appreciatively at her tongue enticing his to a merry chase. She smelled like rain and the faintest hint of citrus soap – it was crisp and sharp and delightful. He tugged at her lip with his teeth playfully, listening to her shaky breathing. He grinned at her. One of the fun things about her pale, freckled complexion was that even tiny amounts of blushing made her look very red.

“Feeling warmer yet?” he purred. “Or should I keep going?”

She smirked at him. “It’s really very cold…”

He tucked his face into her neck. “It’s your clothes, they’re soaked.”

“So you propose I get rid of them,” she said. “Let me guess, there’s a party at my ankles?”

Dante scoffed and nipped her earlobe softly. “I would never repeat a pickup line, Twig. I have a better proposition for you.”

“What proposition?”

He smiled broadly. “Do you have a devil inside you, Twig? No? Would like to?” he asked her boldly.

She blinked at him for a moment then her countenance collapsed under a fit of giggles and she tucked her face in his chest. “That was _awful_! I love it!” she declared.

He returned to her neck, moving her hair aside in one gentle sweep, then reached for the thin ribbon securing the black velvet choker around her neck and tugged it.

“Hey, wait—“

The rest was lost in a small moan when his lips met the scar. All around her neck, thin and jagged like a broken glass, it hid under chokers, scarves and turtle-neck shirts because she didn’t like making it public. She also loathed letting anyone or anything touch her neck. He breathed against it and she squirmed before an open mouth kiss right on it made her squish herself against him.

He loved knowing that he could caress her neck with impunity.

She was fiddling with the buckles of his gun holsters and the zipper of his shirt, sometimes making small, delighted noises as he nibbled, licked and kissed her neck. Grazing it with his teeth produced a small flinch and he ground into her greedily, enjoying her form squished against his body. She got the last buckle undone and he took it as a sign to indulge in something he particularly enjoyed. He moved his hand from her ass to the rim of her skirt and wormed his fingers between the material and her cool skin.

She balked and yelped as he slipped his fingers under the skirt, into her panties and grabbed her firm butt directly. He tutted at her cold skin, even though his gloves. He really had to get her out of these damp clothes and he needed to get the gloves _off_. He wanted to feel her skin directly, he wanted to use his fingers to drive her nuts, he wanted to eat her up—

“Hey, hey—“ she muttered.

Dante finally parted from her neck, leaving a few faint bite marks on the crook of her neck.

“Your clothes need drying too,” she stated.

He smirked at her flushed face and wicked little smile. “You’re absolutely right, Twig. Don’t want to catch a cold.”

He bit into the middle finger of his glove and pulled it off, tossing it away, then peeled off the other.

“Certainly not,” she confirmed, undoing the last buckle of his holster and allowing him to shrug it off, tossing it and his guns onto his desk.

She pulled the zipper to his shirt down nice and slow, planting a kiss between his pecs the moment the damp material fell away. Her fingers creeped under it and he loved the feel of her cold fingers against his warm skin – he radiated heat, perks of being half-demon – and he absently looked forward to what he’d do to fix that cold problem of hers.

Oh the things he’d do.

“Tut, tut, your coat’s done nothing to keep you dry,” she said with a tone of mock chastisement as she pulled his shirt open then down and off his arms smoothly. “I wonder if we could ever find a crisp shirt big enough to fit you,” she added, running her hands up his well-muscled arms and broad shoulders. “I guess you’d look like a hitman for the mob in a suit.”

He hummed, amused, and with the same nonchalance, slid his hands under the back of her purple boat-neck shirt to unclasp her bra. “If I do, can I demand you come see me in a cute French maid outfit sometime?”

She laughed as he pulled the shirt and bra off of her. “That’s so cliché.”

Her breasts bounced free of restraints beautifully, freckles draping down from her shoulders to the valley between them, the nipples pert and inviting – who gave a toss about whether it was because of the cold or his attentions?

“You hurt my feelings, Twig,” he sighed, tossing the clothes aside and neatly onto the pool table.

She smirked. “Am I? I’m not sorry at all.”

But the tension of her body when his hands found themselves on her, spoke otherwise; fingers glided smoothly up her sides to her cooled, supple breasts, over the faint scar on her chest. He loved how they bulged lightly in his grip, perfect little handfuls. He teased the nipples between his fingers, grinning at the cooing noise she made. Her hands ran down his chest, fingers arching to very lightly graze over the firm muscles, leaving a faint sensation like electricity in their wake. He wanted her to be firm, to be as rough as he was being but she’d never give him what he wanted that easily, the damn ginger minx. 

“Oh really? I better do something about that too,” he grinned evily.

She lifted her chin in a perfectly impertinent challenge. “What are you gonna do, spank me?”

“Tempting, if you’re a good girl,” he replied.

“Promises, promises…”

Dante stooped and grabbing her around the butt with both arms, easily hoisted her straight up, making her squeak. He purred as his face pressed into her chest while he crossed the space to the couch in two big strides. He dropped into the couch heavily and pulled her onto his lap. Outside the rain wasn’t losing any of its intensity. The hypnotic pattering of rain against glass filled the room. A stray bolt of lightning somewhere above lit up his windows for an instant before extinguishing itself.

“That’s better,” he announced and immediately returned his face to her valley.

Tess cooed at his stubble brushing her skin while he finally tasted her, allowing his mouth to travel over lightly freckled, silky skin, kissing over a scar before he nipped the soft flesh like a hungry man at a feast. Her breasts were plush and soft and he tugged at the nipple gently, squeezing it between his teeth enough to get a moan out of her before soothing it with his tongue.

Delicious.   

She was warming up now against him and he enjoyed himself tormenting her breasts with rough hands but gentle lips; he massaged the mass and twisted the nipples between his dexterous fingers, tugging at them with his teeth and tormenting them with his mouth in turn. She responded so well too, knotting her slender fingers through his hair, leaning into him and pressing her lips against his forehead. An appreciative purr rumbled out of his throat when her fingers tightened their grip on his hair and tugged after a light bite that left a red mark on her creamy skin. He pinched both tormented nipples and watched her moan.

“Ah-hah, sensitive, aren’t we?” he teased.

She tugged a little firmer at his hair, forcing him to look up at her. “Shut it…” she hissed quietly. “You always run your mouth…”

He grinned wickedly. “You like it when I do that.”

She silenced him further with a kiss, teasing him with her tongue before she nipped his lower lip and proceeded to kiss her way down, over the stubble of his chin, nuzzling his neck and giving his thick pecs a playful squeeze. He breathed in as her mouth continued south and she pushed him back into the couch. He obeyed the unspoken bid to behave himself only because her face promised it would be worth it.

It baffled him a little, how this softness of hers managed to affect him so much; Dante was used to rough play and violence – even death – as the only things to stir his excitement. The fact that these lighter, teasing touches could get his blood up was almost an anomaly but not entirely unwelcome. It was different. He was not disappointed. He felt his belt loosen and then his pants sag, before he tensed with a small grunt. How the hell had she slipped her hand into his trousers without him realizing? He grunted again, his pelvis arching to meet her hand as it cupped around the growing bulge in his pants.

She smiled at him. “Don’t get too carried away, or I’ll have to get wicked,” she said.

He graced her with a thin smile. That little subtle threat there, the challenge, it was real enough and it just stoked his fire. He wanted to tackle her into the couch right there and then, yank the rest of the clothes off her and dare her to do her worst while he ruined her but… her fingers and palm massaging and squeezing the bulge in his pants kept him put, it felt too good. She was rewarded with his flushed face and the effort it took to keep it straight, even as he squirmed, grinding his building erection against her hand greedily.

“Careful, Twig,” he said airily. “Don’t pick fights you can’t… win.”

Damn, she got him there, that little hitch of his voice when her hand found a spot that sorely needed the attention she lavished upon it. Her hand worked smoothly and sweetly on his arousal, he could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton of his underwear. He ground into her hand again absently with a growl, wanting direct contact rather than this teasing through his clothes. Her tempting, impertinent smirk was the last straw.

“Oh? Is that a promise?” she challenged.

Screw self-control.

He seized her wrists and tackled her into the couch, trapping both hands under his and smothered her surprised yelp with a hungry kiss. His other hand dove right into the slit on the side of her long black skirt, rough hand meeting her plush thigh. He dragged it across her skin and finally cupped her panties roughly, rubbing her seam with his fingers. It felt hot and already slightly damp down there – that had nothing to do with rain water, he thought gleefully. She tensed under him, arching her body against him for a moment before she slumped again, legs shutting around his hand. She moaned, smothered by his kiss; her legs rubbed helplessly around his restless hand. He dug in, curled fingers prodding and searching for the sensitive spot of her delight.

“You know better than to provoke me, Twig,” he purred in her ear, over her babbling moans. “Unless _this_ was your plan all along.”

The more he moved his fingers, the wetter the cotton got until he reached and shoved his hand in her tortured panties. He was met with welcoming heat and slick, squishy skin. She tried to stifle the moan, unsuccessfully.

He tutted. “Tut, tut, you’ve made quite a mess in here, Tess and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Sh-shut up--!!!” she squeaked out, squirming under him.

He pressed his hand against her, resisting her reluctant legs, palm against her seam, dragging his fingers up nice and slow. He got a shudder and a cute noise out of her. Two fingers dug in and soon he had her moaning and begging him to slow down. As if, not when she was reacting so deliciously. He still trapped both her wrists to the couch’s pillow with one hand and loomed over her, burying his face into the crook of her neck, assaulting the scar with his mouth once again. He paused over her jugular, dragging his teeth over it and feeling just how hard her blood hammered through it. He heard a wet, drawn out moan from her. He grinned, feeling the wet warmth coating his hand from her recesses. She was shaking.

No good, it wasn’t enough. He wanted her to scream for him.

He dragged his teeth along her skin again, parting from her briefly and pulled his hand out of her panties at last, covered in her juices. The witch drew a shaky breath, her chest heaving, and she made a cooing, miserable noise. He let go of her wrists at last and sat up, making sure she watched as he rather showily licked his fingers.

“Well, well,” he purred. “You taste pretty good, Twig.”

Without giving her an opportunity to respond, he reached down, undid the two buttons fastening her long skirt and raked it off her in one go, along with her panties. He had to really resist the urge to just fall upon her like a hungry wolf and sate himself on her completely. There was too much fun to be had yet for him to just get greedy. He saw her biting her lip in anticipation and grinned impishly. He paused and busied himself with removing her boots, pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder. He kissed her knee, listening to her huff impatiently and shiver at the feel of his stubble grazing her lightly. She squirmed, irritated—trying so hard not to sound needy!

He finally had her completely unwrapped. Tess’ creamy skin was flushed with excitement – like strawberries and cream, he thought, freckles sprinkled over her skin tantalizingly.

He grinned wolfishly. “I bet you’ll scream just as nice for me.”

To his surprise, she managed to regain enough of her composure to get on her elbow and flash him another of her impertinent smirks. “ _Make_ me,” Tess challenged. “Or are you all talk?”

Goddammit.

The half-demon nearly snapped there. Her utter lack of hesitation to challenge him like that all the time would be the death of him – or hers!—someday. He tucked his hands under her plush thighs and lifted her off the couch, making her yelp. He gave her thighs a few playful bites and nibbles, soothing the marks with his tongue, driving torturously slow to his real target. She inhaled sharply when he finally flicked his tongue along her lips.

She tried to hold them back, but was soon reduced to helpless cooing and moaning as he got down to business, tormenting her arousal with his mouth, savoring her flavor and her reaction. He focused on the nub while returning his fingers to her folds. She bucked in surprise and he thrust his fingers faster, getting a louder groan of pleasure from her. He felt her body coil around his fingers with every thrust and heard her trying to stifle her pleasure – always with that valiant effort to play tough, silly witch. Too bad he knew exactly how to break that resistance down!

Her climax was a thing of beauty. Tess squirmed, her thighs trying to close around his head but he dug his fingers into her supple skin and thrust his fingers faster, pressing her clit between his teeth faintly. She did scream for him, grabbing helplessly at the couch, her body wracked by tension and exquisite agony.

Dante gently lay her shivering form down and braced against the pillows to hover over her, having the gall to lick his lips. “About time someone did that to you, huh?” he said cheekily.

“D-damn,” was all she uttered.

“Heh, I know, babe,” he grinned.

He craned his neck down to kiss her, wanting her to taste herself on his lips and was not disappointed by the small moan. Then she managed to surprise him. He scowled in confusion when she pushed him away to glower at him.

“Strip,” the fire witch demanded.

Dante smiled tartly down at her, arms braced on the couch pillow. “Is that an order, Twig? You want me to put on a show?”

She mirrored his expression; though her flushed face and scowl she didn’t look quite as smooth. “Well I can’t be the only one naked and laid out for _your_ enjoyment.”

He feigned indignation. “Are you saying I’m hogging all the fun, Twig?”

“Damn right you are.”

He dipped his head and laughed quietly, shaking his head. Damn the woman’s impertinence! And damn his fondness for it. It frustrated him, but he would sooner give up hunting demons than miss out on her fearlessness. Maybe he really was getting soft in his old age. But evidently, Tess knew him for the vain creature that he was.

“How can I say no to that, Twig?” he sighed and reared back onto his knees.

He watched her prop up on her elbows as he stood up in full view of her. He took a moment to roll his shoulders, ostensibly getting rid of stiffness – but really, he just wanted to give her a good long look of his powerful, broad shoulders and arms. He dithered a bit, kicking his boots off. As he finally reached down to lazily undo his trousers, he kept an eye on her expression and smirked at the way she tried to keep a straight face… but the way her lower lip was caught by her teeth gave it all away. Ah well, it was hard to fault her for enjoying the show.

He pulled the zipper down torturously slow over the bulge straining under his jeans, in time with her coral lips parting gently in a silent cooing. His smirk widened as his thumbs hooked into the rim of his jeans and the boxer-briefs. He allowed a short pause to get that little impatient squirm from her, before he finally pushed them down tantalizingly slow. He grinned wide as the cloth stretched over the straining flesh beneath before finally sliding over and allowing his erection to pop free with a meaty slap against his stomach, before he let the clothes drop to his feet and stepped out of them.

He nearly started laughing because of her highly flushed face and her parted, puffed lips. Her composure was a construct; he knew that under the careful arrangement of her face, the fire witch was _hungry_ for him, just like he was for her. It was so stupid, neither of them could really cut loose and express their real selves, even stark naked, in a situation like this; always with the masks, always protecting themselves.

The devil hunter eased himself onto the couch again, just to get pushed back as she advanced, her lips finding his for a playful nip. Her nipples brushed ever so lightly against his chest, taunting him, but before he could trap her in an embrace, her hand closed around his erection and his breath hitched. Her grip was firm and warm and his thighs bucked, thrusting into her grip hungrily.

He grinned. “What’s this? Gonna try to get me to fold?”

Tess responded silkily, moving her hand along him, thumb tracing circles over the tip. “For as long as you last, dirty devil.”

He scoffed at her daring as her hand cupped and massaged his balls, just as her lips met his chest. She travelled down slowly, hands ever-moving. Her fingers teased out low growls of pleasure out of him until her mouth joined in, sending a shiver of delight up his spine. He bit down on his lip but still groaned and arched up, thrusting like a greedy dog, heeding the siren call of her mouth. Add to that the delightful view of her wine-red hair in his lap and the peek at her pert buttocks, flushed with arousal like the rest of her, and Dante would’ve been happy to lay back and let her drive him to the edge.

But as she teased him on, the demon hunter found it harder to control his shudders and the lustful beast hiding under his skin grew greedy. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the witch was putty in his hands. He reached down, seized her by the arms and smoothly pulled her up, crushing her against him. He cupped her ass with both hands, bringing in to grind her slick, hot folds against his cock, a last minute tease for both of them.

“Time’s up, Twig,” he purred. “I’m taking you for a ride.”

He felt the warmth roiling off her even before he sunk in, the slow grind as he found home and then the slow and tense torture of holding back the unfathomable urge to bury himself in her. She moaned numbly and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, shaking. Her hands found his hair and Dante felt his control slipping as her fingers knotted in his hair. His thighs were taut with tension. It was always a wicked temptation tugging at him, the desire to give into the slick walls closing around him and the caress of her lips. He could’ve slammed into her and simply given way to his urges until she screamed. His grip on her ass grew firmer, fingers sinking into her skin.

She melted against him as her ass came to rest against his thighs, having buried himself in her to the hilt. A low, drawn out groan rumbled out of Dante’s chest at the feel of her quivering walls. The first proper thrust, her thighs pushing her off as his bowed down, pulling out and then sinking back in, was agony. Soon they were moving together, mouths locked in a heated kiss before she needed air, panting sweetly near his ear and her warm breath was just luring him deeper. His mouth sought her neck, grazing over the collarbone and teeth raking the creamy expanse and the jagged scar.

His hips moved with single-minded, hungry purpose as her body bounced over him, plunging deep into her. His hands squeezed and massaged the plump buttocks and moved to her thighs as Tess whispered a word that almost broke him.

“Faster.”

He groaned, half with pleasure, half with desperation – it threatened to set him loose too soon, too mindlessly to savor it. Her mouth on his neck and the tug at his hair heralded the pained squeal of the couch’s springs as he thrust harder. The sound of flesh on flesh joined them and then Dante tipped her over on her back, grabbed her thighs and continued his assault on her pleasure. It was too perfect to resist; she gripped him desperately, walls quivering around him tantalizingly, her breasts bounced with each hard thrust, skin flushed and dotted with perspiration. Her voice coming out in sweet moans and yelps.

It built up with every thrust and every grind, their carnal dance reaching a gradual crescendo. Dante nipped at her neck harshly, happy to leave physical marks of his conquest on her. She would complain about it all the time, hide them under scarves and chokers and high-collar shirts but he still had the twisted delight of knowing they were there, perfect indications that the little spitfire, the ginger witch with the pretty green eyes was _his_ prey.

He hissed softly as her nails raked his back in agony in time with her louder moan. Her legs squeezed against his sides as he slammed home. She bit down on her lips and he could see she was trying to smother her ecstatic cries. That wouldn’t do, not when he was still plunging into her with tireless abandon and sensed her oncoming climax. He dipped his head to her neck and nipped her hard, then breathed into her ear.

“I said you were going to scream for me, Tess,” he growled.

She slumped back and moaned confusedly in response, her glistening lips trembling as she breathed, parting at last for a series of whimpers building up as he shifted to raise her thighs and thrust a little deeper – groaning in pleasure quietly as her walls constricted around him. She squirmed, arched her back, held onto him for dear life, fingers clenched around his hair or digging into his back.

She did, indeed, scream for him, and he savored every note of her ecstatic song as she peaked.

It was too much; his hips were sore, his loins were on fire. A few last, hard thrusts found him buried in her as he climaxed, tucking his face into her neck lest she see his face as his breath hitched before he exhaled a drawn out groan of exquisite pleasure. The sensation of liquid heat between them, the release, knowing he cracked her façade of calm and brought her to this screaming climax; that this gorgeous, passionate woman was his partner in lust.

It was perfect.

She lay under him, panting, arms sliding off him as she relaxed to slump against the couch. Her legs seemed to uncoil all the tension built up in them. He breathed out and stayed there, with his face in her hair, almost squished into the couch. The high from their coupling still thundered through him and he found himself unwilling to part from this comfortable state of exertion. As soon as her breathing reached a normal plateau again, he moved, pulling out of her and rolling them over so she rested on top of him.

The rain outside had petered into drizzle again.

“S’times like these that I feel dumb for not coming to look for you sooner,” he muttered at length.

She moved enough to bring her hand over his chest and rest her chin on it, facing him. “Sometimes I wish you had, just to avoid all the mess we got into,” she sighed.

He draped his arm over her back, staring at the ceiling. Her skin was warm and he liked the feeling of her draped over him. He smirked a bit. “Oh? You must’ve missed me then,” he said.

“Hmm…” she mumbled, reaching her free hand to his hair and combing through it. “I missed the _idea_ of you.”

Dante blinked and craned his neck to look at her. That was the last thing he expected. He would’ve thought she would protest, deny everything or snark at him. But that? “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Her answer was frustratingly cool. “Well, you’re different now. I can’t say that I missed the brat you used to be.”

That made him push himself up onto his elbow halfway. “B-Brat!?” he famously sputtered. “Are you sure you’re talking about me, Twig?”

She cackled with a wicked look. “Because I believe the best description of you then – and it still applies now – was, ‘cock on the walk’.”

He scoffed in disbelief and dropped back onto the couch. “I was right. You evil witch. I save your cute little butt from that mess in Amaro and this is the thanks I get!”

He heard the grin in her tone. “Let me see, you’re asking if I missed your terrible jokes, your penchant for irritating everyone, the way you run your everlasting mouth—“

He groaned.

“—Your utter failure to understand personal space or tact… and then there’s your frankly silly self-indulgence…”

It was all too much for his ego to bear. His pride was on the line, dammit! “Dammit, Twig, are you saying that that’s what you think of me? That I’m—“

“—A colossal dork? Yes,” she said far too quickly. But this time he could hear the tittering bubbling up in her voice. “And yes, I do believe I rather missed that. Bet you missed _me_.”

He scoffed. “As if!” he said. “How could I miss your attitude? Always with the harsh words, Twig. I’m wounded.”

“And I haven’t even mentioned your ego,” she said lightly.

Impertinent little baggage! He couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or grumble. She was just riling him up, poking at him mischievously. Always hiding her meaning behind little put-downs and teasing. He brought up his other arm and slapped her butt lightly.

“I think you’re forgetting your place, Twig,” he said, voice laced with a mild threat. “Do I have to teach your impertinent little ass a lesson?”

She snickered. “Does that include making me scream again?”

He grinned impishly. “Maybe it will, if it means soothing my wounded pride. Maybe I’ll even spank you.”

“Big talk,” she tittered.

“Careful, Tess,” he warned, smirking. “You don’t want me proving that I can back my words…”

She suddenly pushed up and got in his face, her forehead to his, eyes filled with laughter. “Prove it,” she dared him.


End file.
